The comments below are from Jean - my second Mom. Her oldest daughter and I have been friends for 50 years as of 2009 and her impact upon my life has been substantial. It is wonderful to know that this intelligent woman choose to be an active participant in our journey to elect Barack Obama.
I love you, Jean!
Memory is not one of my best skills these latter years, but I remember a few highlights of the ups and downs.
When attending a group I'm in, InnerPeace/WorldPeace, I realized that many high moments before the election were when I was calling people in Colorado, Wisconsin and Ohio, and talked with many young people. It was thrilling to me to hear them talking so excitedly about planning to fill their cars with voters, or picking up an older person who needed a ride. Wow, so different from other elections, when people didn't feel so involved. Praise to Barack--his unifying qualities and the values that come through his words.
On the joy-full side. At the end of the Saturday morning meeting of my favorite group, InnerPeace/WorldPeace, one of my favorite men came around the table to me and spread his arms for a wonderful, juicy, big hug. Such joy, relief after we knew the results, happiness, hope-- all bundled up in a wonderful, earth-shaking hug.
On the tear-full side. I believe my most tears fell for several days when I saw the facial/emotional responses of the crowds of people--especially the close-ups of some of the older African-American folk. When I feel emotionally connected with persons, or see real connection between others, my tears and "innards" just respond meaningfully. I'm grateful for those moments.
Thanks for encouraging our self-expression. Tis important...
Yes it is :)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
From Mary - Reflections on Election Day 2008
Mary is really to blame for my involvement in the campaign. I met her a couple of months ago as a result of my networking process (part of my business development). She is Executive Director of a large and influential nonprofit organization in Milwaukee. At the time she mentioned that she was volunteering with the Obama campaign and we talked a bit about why it seemed so important to her. Her son was a field organizer - a bright, young man who like hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of other young people, had inspired his mother to be involved. Thanks, Mary - for the push to care about my children's future and the man who would be their President...
From Mary:
The campaign had incredible discipline. In mid October I said to my son (and a field organizer), “I not canvassing this weekend. Colleen (my daughter) is getting married in eight days and Barack is up by 10 in the polls.” Without missing a beat, Tyler told me, “Wash your mouth out with soap. You can take the weekend off because of the wedding, but it has nothing to do with the polls.”
From my vantage point, the campaign behaved the same at all times— it consistently ran as if it were losing. It did what it planned on any given day regardless of whether it was 10 points up or 10 points down (except more volunteers would show up when it was down). In fact, the campaign in Milwaukee ran as if it were losing until the polls closed on election night.
I returned to the field office from a day of working “Get out the Vote” in high spirits. It was 5:10 p.m. and I was ready to head home, do a few errands, and get ready to watch the returns. But as I walked inside the door, the somber mood was palpable. One of the volunteers turned to me and explained, “we hit our numbers in this office, but statewide turnout is lower than expected which bodes poorly for Obama. We are going to be reassigned in the field. We are waiting for orders." I found my son and he asked if I would stay the night. “Of course” was the only answer.”
He handed me a list of phone numbers of volunteers who may have missed a scheduled shift. “Call and ask if they can come in now.” One by one, I started dialing the numbers on the list but at 5:45 the orders changed. The office was closing, volunteers were asked to move up to the Second Street office. I quickly gathered up boxes of uneaten pizza and jumped in the car and drove the 15 minutes to Second Street.
The volunteers welcomed the pizza and started training us for “poll line management”---how to encourage the voters in line to stay there until they voted. I helped one staff person map out poll locations and assign volunteers. Oops - an important message from HQ. Don’t leave the office, wait for further instructions. While you’re waiting assemble into groups of two to four. We paced, chatted, went to the restroom and wondered if anything we could do now would really make a difference. But we were down to the wire and no one would walk out now.
And then the final order. Shake the bushes, knock on doors, ring door bells, find those have not voted, get down on you knees if need be. Get that person to the polls.
My group drove downtown and parked on the lower east side. We divided into pairs. My partner was a lawyer and impassioned Obama supporter without any canvassing experience who was very uneasy with our assignment. I assured him that we could do this for an hour and with the right spirit we would have fun.
But the first two or three groups of people we met on the street were not citizens. Several individuals ignored us or told us to get lost. This was dismal. We decided to walk through Metro Market. “Have you voted today?" we asked the shoppers. Each one smiled back and said yes. We found a small group watching election returns in the café. Two middle aged men told me they had not voted, were not registered and had no intention of voting. I got down on one knee and they turned their attention back to the TV.
At 7:59 we reconnected with our team. And at 8:01, the media called Wisconsin. And quite frankly, there was no better place to be at that moment than with the die hard, kick ass to the last moment Obama team.
From Mary:
The campaign had incredible discipline. In mid October I said to my son (and a field organizer), “I not canvassing this weekend. Colleen (my daughter) is getting married in eight days and Barack is up by 10 in the polls.” Without missing a beat, Tyler told me, “Wash your mouth out with soap. You can take the weekend off because of the wedding, but it has nothing to do with the polls.”
From my vantage point, the campaign behaved the same at all times— it consistently ran as if it were losing. It did what it planned on any given day regardless of whether it was 10 points up or 10 points down (except more volunteers would show up when it was down). In fact, the campaign in Milwaukee ran as if it were losing until the polls closed on election night.
I returned to the field office from a day of working “Get out the Vote” in high spirits. It was 5:10 p.m. and I was ready to head home, do a few errands, and get ready to watch the returns. But as I walked inside the door, the somber mood was palpable. One of the volunteers turned to me and explained, “we hit our numbers in this office, but statewide turnout is lower than expected which bodes poorly for Obama. We are going to be reassigned in the field. We are waiting for orders." I found my son and he asked if I would stay the night. “Of course” was the only answer.”
He handed me a list of phone numbers of volunteers who may have missed a scheduled shift. “Call and ask if they can come in now.” One by one, I started dialing the numbers on the list but at 5:45 the orders changed. The office was closing, volunteers were asked to move up to the Second Street office. I quickly gathered up boxes of uneaten pizza and jumped in the car and drove the 15 minutes to Second Street.
The volunteers welcomed the pizza and started training us for “poll line management”---how to encourage the voters in line to stay there until they voted. I helped one staff person map out poll locations and assign volunteers. Oops - an important message from HQ. Don’t leave the office, wait for further instructions. While you’re waiting assemble into groups of two to four. We paced, chatted, went to the restroom and wondered if anything we could do now would really make a difference. But we were down to the wire and no one would walk out now.
And then the final order. Shake the bushes, knock on doors, ring door bells, find those have not voted, get down on you knees if need be. Get that person to the polls.
My group drove downtown and parked on the lower east side. We divided into pairs. My partner was a lawyer and impassioned Obama supporter without any canvassing experience who was very uneasy with our assignment. I assured him that we could do this for an hour and with the right spirit we would have fun.
But the first two or three groups of people we met on the street were not citizens. Several individuals ignored us or told us to get lost. This was dismal. We decided to walk through Metro Market. “Have you voted today?" we asked the shoppers. Each one smiled back and said yes. We found a small group watching election returns in the café. Two middle aged men told me they had not voted, were not registered and had no intention of voting. I got down on one knee and they turned their attention back to the TV.
At 7:59 we reconnected with our team. And at 8:01, the media called Wisconsin. And quite frankly, there was no better place to be at that moment than with the die hard, kick ass to the last moment Obama team.
From Karen - Reflections on a New Generation of Voters
I was a poll worker all day, registering new voters or voters who had moved since the last election. One of the special experiences for me was registering two young folks who were born to friends 19 years ago. They were so excited about voting for the first time. I thought about how many elections I've lived through, working for McGovern, being so disillusioned with the Clinton's, watching Carter swallowed by D.C. politics, and in general, the dirty tactics that became so refined with the Republicans. I thought about all the young people, like my niece in North Carolina, who worked Obama's campaign and how magnificent it must be for them to win. I wonder if they can ever truly appreciate this event.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Story from New Mexico
My good friend Darby, (this is from my daughter, Jennifer's friend) who lives in Albuquerque, had this to contribute:
I have been eligible to vote in three presidential elections now. Election day in our household is a holiday with roughly the same importance as Thanksgiving. My husband and I get up in the morning and go vote, holding hands as we walk to our precincts voting booth. We then vote, beaming like idiots, and walk home, hand in hand. The work day is truly a challenge, how can you pay attention to returning phone calls and pleasing the public when something so important is going on? When we are finally free we race home to turn on the TV and settle in to the couch for the returns. At ten or so we move the TV into the bedroom and stay up all night waiting for the results. Last Tuesday we planned a sleepover party with some friends and were very excited.
This year we were able to vote early, and did so, along with about half the registered voters in our new home, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Most people we knew were volunteers for the Obama campaign, so everyone was invested and enthusiastic. Our little sleepover turned into a party quickly. My husband, John, made a huge vat of chili, David brought the salad, Amanda and Mike brought bread, several people brought wine and we watched TV as we waited for all the friends who working the polls. They finally arrived. Jessie and Sophia came in with dog, sleeping bags, air mattress and lots of sugary pop. Becky came in last, famished and exhausted. We all gathered in the living room, ready for a long night. In just an hour it was over. No one could believe it. We screamed, cheered, hooted and cried. People ran out into the streets all over the city to celebrate in the cold. No one could contain themselves. It was heartening and exciting to see my new, very diverse city come together with so much joy.
The next day we paid special attention to the news and kept reassuring ourselves that it really happened. Indiana! who could believe that the birthplace of the KKK would go Democratic? And yet, this new dawn did not bring entirely good news. We were saddened and angered to watch as proposition 8 in California (and similar legislation elsewhere) was used to change the state constitution to exclude gays and lesbians from the ability to marry. So we have a long way to go. But really have come very far. It gets better all the time, and for the first time in years I am proud, and not embarrassed, to be an American. Maybe Michelle Obama gets in trouble when she says it, but I think it needs to be said.
I have been eligible to vote in three presidential elections now. Election day in our household is a holiday with roughly the same importance as Thanksgiving. My husband and I get up in the morning and go vote, holding hands as we walk to our precincts voting booth. We then vote, beaming like idiots, and walk home, hand in hand. The work day is truly a challenge, how can you pay attention to returning phone calls and pleasing the public when something so important is going on? When we are finally free we race home to turn on the TV and settle in to the couch for the returns. At ten or so we move the TV into the bedroom and stay up all night waiting for the results. Last Tuesday we planned a sleepover party with some friends and were very excited.
This year we were able to vote early, and did so, along with about half the registered voters in our new home, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Most people we knew were volunteers for the Obama campaign, so everyone was invested and enthusiastic. Our little sleepover turned into a party quickly. My husband, John, made a huge vat of chili, David brought the salad, Amanda and Mike brought bread, several people brought wine and we watched TV as we waited for all the friends who working the polls. They finally arrived. Jessie and Sophia came in with dog, sleeping bags, air mattress and lots of sugary pop. Becky came in last, famished and exhausted. We all gathered in the living room, ready for a long night. In just an hour it was over. No one could believe it. We screamed, cheered, hooted and cried. People ran out into the streets all over the city to celebrate in the cold. No one could contain themselves. It was heartening and exciting to see my new, very diverse city come together with so much joy.
The next day we paid special attention to the news and kept reassuring ourselves that it really happened. Indiana! who could believe that the birthplace of the KKK would go Democratic? And yet, this new dawn did not bring entirely good news. We were saddened and angered to watch as proposition 8 in California (and similar legislation elsewhere) was used to change the state constitution to exclude gays and lesbians from the ability to marry. So we have a long way to go. But really have come very far. It gets better all the time, and for the first time in years I am proud, and not embarrassed, to be an American. Maybe Michelle Obama gets in trouble when she says it, but I think it needs to be said.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Wonderful Story
Judith Warner from the New York Times wrote this wonderful story - no, I didn't get it directly from her. A friend sent it to me and it speaks in many ways to similar messages shared on this blog site.
Simply go to: http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/title/?ei=5070&emc=eta1
Enjoy!
Simply go to: http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/title/?ei=5070&emc=eta1
Enjoy!
Friday, November 7, 2008
From Asha's Momma
Michelle is a beautiful, talented, and intelligent member of the leadership team at Public Allies - yes, the same one that Michelle Obama has spoken of - a wonderful non-profit organization focused on developing leadership skills in our country's youth - headquartered in Milwaukee. Below she shares her story in part through the eyes of her daughter.
Taking the Dream from her Pocket!
I have a daughter, Asha, who will be two years old in two weeks. She is the coolest person I know, and I keep her as the apple of my eye. When I was that size, I was raised to believe that I had to do twice as well as the white children around me to be considered half as good. Even then, I knew that my hair must be combed, my face washed, I should always use my manners... I'm sure that the women in the family did it to keep me safe. They'd borne witness to lynching, segregation and discrimination for all of their lives. They also discouraged me from living too loud or wanting too much, to keep me from being ostracized or disappointed. And so, I put my dreams in my pocket, knowing that someone else, someone who those kinds of ridiculous dreams were meant for, would come to gather them when the time was right. Me, I would stand nearby to congratulate and support their efforts.
I voted early, as I was going to be at a conference on Election Day itself, but I asked my mother to bring Asha along to the polling place. She went, and stood in line with my mom, and I'm told that whenever someone greeted her, she answered, "I'm going to vote for Obama". They all thought it was darling, but there was something more important afoot. She'd watched plenty of news coverage preceding the election, and the Democratic convention with her parents. When people chanted Barack Obama’s name, she did too. When she saw the famous "O" posted somewhere on the street, she would point it out to anyone who’d listen. Barack Obama became as popular as Elmo in our house over the course of the campaign. And why not? They both are friendly, and people love them. Plus, Obama and his wife have two little brown girls living with them - just like my Asha's Mommy and Daddy. Their family makes sense to her, and when she heard about the election, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to support her friend.
That night, she woke up at 10:30 unprompted. I kept her awake, instead of tucking her back in, the way I would on an ordinary night. I carried her back into my bedroom to watch the newly elected first family walk onstage. She said, "What happened, Mommy?" I whispered, "Obama won...." and with that, all hell broke loose. "YAY! Obama won! Hooray for Obama!" she sang, in the same tone we use to congratulate her for using the potty, or putting on her own shoes. And then, my husband and I started to cry. Our baby's happiness at the win of "President Elmo" was overwhelming. We wept because Asha could see little girls that looked like her on the national stage. She can honestly be told that she can succeed on her own terms, without the comparisons to the majority that I suffered from. We were in awe of the idea that she will grow up seeing herself reflected in American society the way she really is, not as the nightly news reports.
I cry just trying to write this down. I cry tears of joy that this day will be so profound in the lives of my children, and that the content of their character finally has permission to shine through. I also cry with sadness for the horror our people have had to survive to get to this place in history. I also know that I have so much work to do. I intend to fish that little dream of my own out of my pocket, and make the most of it!
Taking the Dream from her Pocket!
I have a daughter, Asha, who will be two years old in two weeks. She is the coolest person I know, and I keep her as the apple of my eye. When I was that size, I was raised to believe that I had to do twice as well as the white children around me to be considered half as good. Even then, I knew that my hair must be combed, my face washed, I should always use my manners... I'm sure that the women in the family did it to keep me safe. They'd borne witness to lynching, segregation and discrimination for all of their lives. They also discouraged me from living too loud or wanting too much, to keep me from being ostracized or disappointed. And so, I put my dreams in my pocket, knowing that someone else, someone who those kinds of ridiculous dreams were meant for, would come to gather them when the time was right. Me, I would stand nearby to congratulate and support their efforts.
I voted early, as I was going to be at a conference on Election Day itself, but I asked my mother to bring Asha along to the polling place. She went, and stood in line with my mom, and I'm told that whenever someone greeted her, she answered, "I'm going to vote for Obama". They all thought it was darling, but there was something more important afoot. She'd watched plenty of news coverage preceding the election, and the Democratic convention with her parents. When people chanted Barack Obama’s name, she did too. When she saw the famous "O" posted somewhere on the street, she would point it out to anyone who’d listen. Barack Obama became as popular as Elmo in our house over the course of the campaign. And why not? They both are friendly, and people love them. Plus, Obama and his wife have two little brown girls living with them - just like my Asha's Mommy and Daddy. Their family makes sense to her, and when she heard about the election, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to support her friend.
That night, she woke up at 10:30 unprompted. I kept her awake, instead of tucking her back in, the way I would on an ordinary night. I carried her back into my bedroom to watch the newly elected first family walk onstage. She said, "What happened, Mommy?" I whispered, "Obama won...." and with that, all hell broke loose. "YAY! Obama won! Hooray for Obama!" she sang, in the same tone we use to congratulate her for using the potty, or putting on her own shoes. And then, my husband and I started to cry. Our baby's happiness at the win of "President Elmo" was overwhelming. We wept because Asha could see little girls that looked like her on the national stage. She can honestly be told that she can succeed on her own terms, without the comparisons to the majority that I suffered from. We were in awe of the idea that she will grow up seeing herself reflected in American society the way she really is, not as the nightly news reports.
I cry just trying to write this down. I cry tears of joy that this day will be so profound in the lives of my children, and that the content of their character finally has permission to shine through. I also cry with sadness for the horror our people have had to survive to get to this place in history. I also know that I have so much work to do. I intend to fish that little dream of my own out of my pocket, and make the most of it!
A Surreal Moment - Jim's Story
This story is written by my husband, Jim. He was so supportive of my involvement especially knowing that he had to restrain his own, given his current position. Thank you Jim - I love you.
The news came seconds after 10:00 p.m. CST: Barack Obama, the announcer declared, had won the election and would be the 44th President of the United States. The room I was in when the announcement came was packed with 20-some of Barack Obama’s hardest working and most energetic supporters, people young and old, white and black, male and female, who had spent virtually every waking moment of the last several months working, sweating, living for this very intersection of time, place and destiny. These exhausted, fervent, focused souls erupted with a joy so forceful, so buoyant and so cathartic that every being in the room, and no doubt countless others far away from it, became weightless. A text message arrives on my phone at 10:02. It is from my son Daniel. It reads simply, viscerally, bawdily: “Hell f_ _ _ in yeah, dad! Hell f_ _ _in’ yeah!”
The moment was surreal, unlike any similar moment I had ever been witness to in any election I had ever cared about. I felt faint…flushed, giddy, proud, floating-on-air faint. There was the discernible sense then and there that the national history being written from this instant forward would read nothing at all like the national history already in print. An extraordinary man – thoughtful, intellectual, compassionate, honest, reflective, wise, grounded, humble in his confidence, attentive to the struggles of others…in him every noble human quality that has been utterly absent in the leadership we have been obliged to suffer in this country for the last eight years – has been elected President of the United States. And that this extraordinary man is also African-American makes his ascendancy an outcome of inexpressible significance.
I joined the hugs, the handshakes and the high-fives that in those narcotic moments that followed connected every celebrating human being on the planet. I sat down, head back against the wall, looking above the joyful revelers, past the television and the room and the community and dared to imagine that maybe, just maybe, we will at long last bring the best of ourselves to a pained and fearful world, a world that has been battered, marginalized and demeaned by our hubris, and be the relief of its suffering instead of the cause. The room’s joyful noises receded as I thought about the heavy price that so many have paid in their determined efforts to hold us accountable for our failures to guarantee to all the blessings of liberty we claim to embrace.
Tears welled in my eyes as I beheld these memories rush together in this present moment, unspoken but poignantly present on the faces of the parents and grandparents of a very different time in this country, who stand now bent by the infirmities of age and the weight of a lifetime of second-class citizenship, in tearful, silent tribute to those of their history whose sacrifices made this history possible. Here now stands Barack, this young man of color and unusual name, on the mountaintop we call the presidency of this most powerful nation on the planet. The sight is an improbability so deeply etched into the American cultural conscience that we may be forgiven for asking ourselves, despite the celebratory and electoral evidence to the contrary: Can this be real? It is indeed real. Oh, happy, happy day!
My thanks and love to my spouse, Christine, for her tireless work on Barack’s campaign which efforts she, in her thoughtful way, has dedicated to our children. My thanks as well to the others of her “campaign family” who gave of themselves in similar indefatigable measure to this most worthy and important purpose. Well done! (jmh 11/7/08)
The news came seconds after 10:00 p.m. CST: Barack Obama, the announcer declared, had won the election and would be the 44th President of the United States. The room I was in when the announcement came was packed with 20-some of Barack Obama’s hardest working and most energetic supporters, people young and old, white and black, male and female, who had spent virtually every waking moment of the last several months working, sweating, living for this very intersection of time, place and destiny. These exhausted, fervent, focused souls erupted with a joy so forceful, so buoyant and so cathartic that every being in the room, and no doubt countless others far away from it, became weightless. A text message arrives on my phone at 10:02. It is from my son Daniel. It reads simply, viscerally, bawdily: “Hell f_ _ _ in yeah, dad! Hell f_ _ _in’ yeah!”
The moment was surreal, unlike any similar moment I had ever been witness to in any election I had ever cared about. I felt faint…flushed, giddy, proud, floating-on-air faint. There was the discernible sense then and there that the national history being written from this instant forward would read nothing at all like the national history already in print. An extraordinary man – thoughtful, intellectual, compassionate, honest, reflective, wise, grounded, humble in his confidence, attentive to the struggles of others…in him every noble human quality that has been utterly absent in the leadership we have been obliged to suffer in this country for the last eight years – has been elected President of the United States. And that this extraordinary man is also African-American makes his ascendancy an outcome of inexpressible significance.
I joined the hugs, the handshakes and the high-fives that in those narcotic moments that followed connected every celebrating human being on the planet. I sat down, head back against the wall, looking above the joyful revelers, past the television and the room and the community and dared to imagine that maybe, just maybe, we will at long last bring the best of ourselves to a pained and fearful world, a world that has been battered, marginalized and demeaned by our hubris, and be the relief of its suffering instead of the cause. The room’s joyful noises receded as I thought about the heavy price that so many have paid in their determined efforts to hold us accountable for our failures to guarantee to all the blessings of liberty we claim to embrace.
Tears welled in my eyes as I beheld these memories rush together in this present moment, unspoken but poignantly present on the faces of the parents and grandparents of a very different time in this country, who stand now bent by the infirmities of age and the weight of a lifetime of second-class citizenship, in tearful, silent tribute to those of their history whose sacrifices made this history possible. Here now stands Barack, this young man of color and unusual name, on the mountaintop we call the presidency of this most powerful nation on the planet. The sight is an improbability so deeply etched into the American cultural conscience that we may be forgiven for asking ourselves, despite the celebratory and electoral evidence to the contrary: Can this be real? It is indeed real. Oh, happy, happy day!
My thanks and love to my spouse, Christine, for her tireless work on Barack’s campaign which efforts she, in her thoughtful way, has dedicated to our children. My thanks as well to the others of her “campaign family” who gave of themselves in similar indefatigable measure to this most worthy and important purpose. Well done! (jmh 11/7/08)
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